I Studied the Dictionary
by Rebakah
Summary: Do I insult so many people on a daily basis that I cannot even remember whom I've hurt? Is that really all I do? Trample others in my attempt to raise myself? I don't think I have the determination necessary to become a performer on Broadway anymore.


**Author's Note: **This is set post "Wheels" and pre-"Ballads"  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine

I Studied the Dictionary

Kurt deserved that solo.

He is "Defying Gravity," he lives it, breathes it, and dresses it every day. No one can pull him down, make him conform to what society expects and although he is by no definition of the word popular, he does have friends. Life didn't work out as well for me.

His letter is the first one I write.

_Dear Kurt,_

_We haven't always been on the best terms but I want to say you are an amazingly talented individual. You and I both know you can hit that elusive high F so go for it. That song was written for someone with your strength, not for a dramatic coward like me. Combine your killer fashion sense, stunning singing voice, and stellar character and you will go far._

_I know you stick up for your own. Take care of Mercedes; underneath that tough exterior is a girl who needs a friend. She's lucky to have one like you._

When I'm finished with all of the letters, I'll stick this under his windshield wipers. I don't do it yet because he cleans his car so compulsively that he might find it too early. That could prove to be catastroph- I mean that would be bad.

If the jocks need another reason to slushie me, I could tell them that I studied the dictionary once. I'll admit it. I was bored, lonely, and had been struck with laryngitis so I could not perform my usual vocal exercises. _Sing,_ Rachel, normal people say _sing_.

Miss Pillsbury would psychoanalyze me; she would tell me the fifty-dollar words and diva fits to be in the spotlight are defense mechanisms. And as pathetic as it is to admit, that mysophope would right.

I'm not as self-absorbed as I portray myself to be. I am completely aware that I'm not on a level above everyone else. Everyone in this school just wants to escape this depressing place, escape the heavy cloak of anonymity (worse than poverty), escape the stigma of being a Lima loser.

With a sigh, I pull out another sheet of pink, personalized paper.

_Dear Mr. Shuester,_

_I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Your choreography is not all that terr- _I cross out that last sentence. _Glee club is a really great place for high school students to express themselves. I'm sorry for trying to question your abilities as a teacher, for demanding the solos, and then quitting if I didn't get them after you had given me so much. Real stars don't storm out when they don't get the lead and on Broadway there would always be someone better than me. That how it works, if talent is all you have in life you don't have very much at all._

_Thanks for being my biggest and only fan. Most importantly, thanks for caring._

And I scribble out the star printed next to my name.

_Dear Quinn,  
__I meant what I said about the "Gleeks" being there for you. Keep leaning on them, they'll take care of you. And I'm sorry. You know why. _

Even tonight I can't bring myself to explain myself to her more than that. As much as I accept that my abrasive personality opened me up to ridicule, she still drew pornagraphic pictures of me on the bathroom wall. Then again I'm no better.

That diva-off was an eyeopener for me. When Kurt looked at me as he sang "bring me down" there was an accusation in his eyes. I looked around for someone else to shift the blame to but there was no one else around. Is that really all I do? Trample others in my attempt to raise myself?

_Dear Mercedes,  
__I know we argue a lot but I admire much about you. Keep bring that black thunder! Have you ever thought of auditioning for American Idol? They would be severely lacking in intelligence if they would reject you. Stars on the rise should stick together so take care of Kurt. Due to the imbeciles that because of some cruel twist of fate rule the school, he's going to need a good friend.  
__I'm sorry if I implied that you're not as strong a singer as I am. _If? Implied?_ You have real soul. Thanks for always keeping me on my toes._

I don't think I have the determination necessary to become a performer on Broadway anymore.

_Dear Artie,  
__I cringe when I replay our conversation in my head. How could I have been so callous to assume that being set apart due to a disability beyond your control would not hurt you? Your retort was completely warranted. My sincerest apologies. I really admire your strength. The way you overcome the obstacles life has cruelly set before you is unbelievable. Keep rolling._

Tina's letter the easiest to write because by some miracle, I don't think I ever hurt her.

_Dear Tina,  
__Be confident. Sing your heart out. And if you really want something, or more importantly someone, you should chase it, or him, with all that you have. _

Wait! I have hurt her! Do I insult so many people on a daily basis that I cannot even remember whom I've hurt? I crumple that letter and throw it at my pink trashcan. It misses by a foot. Take two.

_Dear Tina,  
__My love for "West Side Story" was by no means an excuse for me to throw a fit over you getting Maria's solo. Looking back, I am mortified by my actions. Just because you were quiet about your feelings I assumed you didn't have them. You lack nothing in talent, just in confidence so _this part of the letter still applies _sing your heart out. And if you really want something, or more importantly someone, you should chase it (or him) with all that you have. You deserve happiness. _

I massage my throbbing temples. The hardest letter I saved for last. (My Dads were taken care of already. I had decided that letters were too impersonal so instead I recorded tapes for them: I explained my actions, told them how much I loved them, and sang to them. Just that time, I had allowed the tears to pour forth. Even with this letter I won't let myself cry again.) Here goes nothing.

_Dear Finn,  
__How to begin? The progress you have made over your time in Glee is outstanding, the least of which was the improvement in your range. I am so proud that you were able to be a leader and stay with us even when the football jackasses tried to bully you around. That strength is going to be drawn on time and time again in the coming months. There will be all types of problems; money issues, telling your mother and Quinn's parents about the baby, and raising a kid. But I know you'll do it and you'll do it well. You're going to be a great father.  
__I'm sorry for trying to foist- that means force- my affections on you. It seems I have much to apologize for these days. You deserve better. You have a beautiful, wonderful girlfriend who loves you and is carrying your baby. Enjoy every minute with her. I know things are a tense these days but in the end you'll see that it's all for the best._

_With friendship,_

_Rachel_

I'm letting go. I shove the letter into the matching envelope and swallow hard. Now that the letter writing faction of my plan is finished it's time to implement the next stage. I had decided that it would be safe to put out the letters now because even if someone found one, he or she would never be able guess where I will be.

* * *

I looked through the phonebook to find his address. Lucky for me he has a unique last name. I kill the engine of my dad's car a block away (you can never be too cautious) and walk the rest of way. I hold my breath and knock.

"What are you doing here?" I never realized how small I was compared to him before I had him towering over me in a wife beater and sweatpants. He looks at me quizzically and I don't blame him in the slightest. I mean, if he had shown up on my doorstep...

"Well, Berry," he stands there expectantly and his hands twitch towards the door, just itching to slam it in my face.

I stick out my hand to prevent him and call out, "Wait, Noah or Puck, whichever your prefer. Although I can't imagine why you would want to be called by that nickname when-"

"I voted for you. Kay Berry? You got the solo, now let me go to sleep because I can't look badass with bags under my eyes."

I have to stop stalling so I steel my nerves, smooth my skirt, and look at a spot just passed his right ear. "This has nothing to do with the competition." Actually it has everything but he doesn't need to know that. "When I broke up with you, you told me that you would have ended our relationship anyway because," I shudder," in your words: 'you wouldn't even let me touch your boobs.'" He smirks at my obvious discomfort and I hesitate. But it's past midnight and I'm standing here on Noah Puckerman's doorstep after the letters have already been distributed. If nothing else of my old self remains, let my brazenness help get me through this last encounter.

"So that's what's been eating you up," he laughs. "And you want to yell at me now. You really are a crazy prude who wears really short skirts."

"No," I tell him firmly. "I am here to offer you what I now realize is the only reason you entered a relationship with me in the first place." I swallow (hopefully) imperceptively. "Sex."

He looks at me as if I've grown another head and then a smile creeps onto his face. "You said you wanted to be friends, I didn't realize you meant friends with benefits."

I don't reply, which is probably a first.

"Normally I don't reject anyone but," I stiffen, "last time I tried something you pushed me away. It's late and I don't want to be left with a hard on and no one to help." He taps his chin thoughtfully. "Let me see, how could you prove to me that you're serious? Ha!" I have a sick feeling in my stomach but I will not back down. "It's simple, just show me your bra."

I feel as if I'm stuck in deja vu. How long ago was it when Jacob Israel demanded the same thing? And Puck seems to think he deserves a flipping Nobel Prize for such a brilliant idea!

"Here?"

"No better place." I can't get my muscles to work. "No?" he asks sharply. Standing before me is not the man who sang "Sweet Caroline" to me. Instead there's the hardened jock who slushies girls and throws guys in dumpsters. "I knew you didn't have that type of guts. Goodnight, Berry."

Once again I send my hand out to stop him from slamming the door in my face. And completely disconnected from my brain, my fingers travel to the hem of my shirt and pull it up, baring myself for the first time.

An almost feral grin is his response. "Alright then, come on in. No one else is home. Welcome to my humble house." I purposefully stride through the doorway into the devil's lair although inside I am quaking with fear.

* * *

Our clothes are strewn all across the room and his body is pressing mine into the bed and the kisses are hot heavy. Once I got past the awkwardness and embarrassment of asking my ex-boyfriend to have sex with me, I let myself feel again and it's so good to feel something other then pain.

"Just take me already," I beg. I want to forget about what I'm going to do as soon as I leave Noah's house. I want to experience something strong enough to block the squeezing feeling I constantly have in my chest.

That comment almost sets him over the edge but with self-control I didn't know he possessed, he asks in a husky voice, "Are you a virgin?"

I was hoping he wouldn't ask that question and I don't want to answer him so I pretend to be insulted. "I don't see why that's any of your business! Additionally," even aroused, I'm never at a loss for words, "why would you assume such a thing? You think I repulse all guys to the point that no one would want to be with me?"

He silences me with a deep kiss and then stares at me with lust filled eyes. "I'm serious Berry. It's important."

I start to argue again and he angrily yells, "God dammit! Yes or no!"

"Yes," I whisper.

"Thank you," he breathes, "I'm going to try to make this hurt as little as possible. But it will, you know, hurt," he says slightly uncomfortably.

I nod and his soft demeanor disappears as quickly as it had come. He reaches into his night table and pulls out a condom and before I can stop myself, I'm saying, "You don't need to bother."

"Oh you're on birth control?" Before I have to lie Puck continues, "Whatever. I really can't take the risk of knocking you up. Now get ready for the best lay you'll ever have." A bitter smile graces my lips, which he mistakes for haughty disbelief. "You don't believe me? Well I have a talent, so relax and enjoy the ride."

I brace myself and then he is inside of me. Quickly he reaches the issue of my barrier. I cringe, waiting for the inevitable pain but he pauses and murmurs, "I told you this is gonna hurt." I nod although it was a statement, not a question. He continues, "It'll help to squeeze me tight. You won't be able to hurt me." His arms bear testament to that brag, they really are quite lovely. So is his chest for that matter.

Breathing heavily, he crashes his lips against mine and suddenly I feel physical pain like never before but it's almost buried by his fiery kiss. In that moment the emotional pain has disappeared and it feels like everything is going to be okay. I'm alive again and it's Noah who is putting my broken soul back together, if only temporarily. The gnawing feeling in my gut has subsided; I no longer have a black hole inside of me. If this is what sex is, maybe I'll turn to prostitution. Oh who care about the future? Right now I can't think of anything but the sensations building inside of me.

* * *

Sweating and panting, I stare at the face above mine in a daze. "Well Berry you found yourself another natural talent. You're much easier to deal with when you're moaning my name instead of blabbering about show tunes." Puck's swipe brings me crashing back to reality and I force myself to go numb as he rolls himself off of me.

_I hope you didn't expect him to cuddle and profess his love for you_ my inner voice taunts. I didn't! I said myself the only reason he went out with me was to have sex with me. Why should he continue his facade of caring after he got what he wanted? During the act I could mislead myself to believe that I actually had made a connection with someone but to him it was completely physical. I was just another girl to satisfy "his needs" with and then go back to drooling over Quinn. I'm sure if I would be in school tomorrow there would be no change in his behavior indicating that he had taken my virginity.

_Isn't that why you picked Puck in the first place? _I chose him for this part of the plan because I knew it wouldn't affect him. I didn't want my last action to be causing someone future pain. That and that I knew he would never turn down sex.

"You can sleep here tonight if you want," he yawns. "My mom won't be home till tomorrow night. Just be gone before I wake up. I'm sure that won't be a problem for you." He falls asleep almost immediately. How typical of the male species. I almost want to wake him up and rant just to talk to someone for one final time. Instead I wait until his snores indicate that he is indeed fast asleep then I put back on my clothing and slip out the door. The only trace I leave behind is a short note. I do owe him some semblance of an explanation.

* * *

The next morning, Puck's alarm clock goes off. With his eyes still closed, he reaches blindly to hit the snooze button but instead comes in contact with a post-it note. He cracks an eye open and sees that it's pink and in the shape of star. He opens his other eye and stares at the loopy handwriting for a moment then he comprehends the words and jolts upright.

_Thanks for the sex. I didn't want to die a virgin._

"Fuck."

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**A/N:** My first attempt at a Glee fanfic. If there's interest, I might write what would have happened if Puck would have woken up in time to find Rachel. Please let me know what you think! And to all those reading "Hermione's Condition" I have not abandoned it! Just bear with me please. I hope you enjoyed my longest chapter ever!


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